


Forgotten

by MysticAssassin



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Allen can still see souls, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Angst, DGM universe, Detective!Kanda, Psychological Drama, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-03-09 23:43:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13492308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysticAssassin/pseuds/MysticAssassin
Summary: Allen's descent into madness began as early as he could remember. He sees what he knows people should not. The souls of the lost- whether they are the victims or the killers. He never asked for his curse, but one day, that very curse is what brings him to Kanda Yu; a detective determined in his job of solving murders, finding the missing, and catching serial killers. It's an unlikely match, but through Kanda, Allen finds purpose. And perhaps his curse can be used as a gift as well.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So, my friend was trying to help me get started writing again and decided on a challenge. When she posts chapters, I also have to post at least one, and finally, finish something. I decided to go with this fic that I have been writing and like the concept. So I am posting this here to gauge interest to see if I should continue this now, or continue one of my other fics instead~  
> Please read and enjoy~

“My name is Allen Walker. I'm 9 years old. And I'm alive.” The young boy muttered to himself. His voice a little louder than what was possibly appropriate if he wanted to count himself among the sane to any who might happen upon his strange utterings.

Truth be told, he did not care. He was _not_ sane, he did not _feel_ sane. What he wanted was to feel assured. “My name is Allen Walker. I'm 9 years old. And I'm alive.”

He adjusted the dark hood further atop his head. Not a single strand of hair fell into view. His eyes hidden from sight as he kept his gaze lowered. The ground moving beneath his feet with each sentence he spoke.

“My name is Allen Walker. I'm 9 years old. I'm alive.” He bit his lip. His sentence came out slightly changed. He slipped up as a shiver ran up his spine. “My name is Allen Walker. I'm 9 years old. And I'm…”

His breath caught in his throat as a shudder ran through his body. He swallowed the bile that slowly began rising from deep within him.

The ground beneath him expanded from just the range of his feet. The streets were a dark gray, wet from the droplets falling from the sky. The water gathered and rippled the surface of a puddle in his peripheral.

It was raining. He remembered. He could see the drizzle now, feel it permeate his clothing. Try to soak through his skin. Chill his bones. The rain was heavy. It fell in sheets and created a sort of isolation in a small radius of his being.

The sheet of rain parted just enough to see the entrance of an alleyway- dark and foreboding, giving way to true isolation…

Except he knew he was no longer alone.

“M-my name is,” he swallowed again. A gleam, from what turned out to be a large butcher knife shone in crazed eyes that showed mostly white. “I’m 9 years o-old.”

The boy took a step back. His eyes drifting toward the empty space just above the figure’s head before looking back at the figure. _Male_. _Late_ _thirties_. _Physical_ _things_ , the young boy thought. _Solid things._ He reminded himself.

The figure before him took a step toward him. His head tilting too far to be innocent curiosity. His smile flashed too wide. He was missing the upper molar right before the furthest one on the left side of his jaw.

“My name is Allen Walker.”

The man threw his blade a little ways into the air and caught it back at the handle. He took a step forward.

“I'm 9 years old.”

The boy almost forgot how to breathe. He took a careful step back. The man in front of him tilted his head to the other side. The blade left his hand again. This time it went a bit too high and he caught it by the blade with both hands. A line of red ran down his fingers, dripping into the puddle that had only been filled and toyed with by the rain. The man chuckled.

He was out from the shelter of the alleyway. The rain once again building a sense of isolation. The occupancy raised to two.

“And I'm aaah-” the young boy stumbled and fell back landing in a puddle. The water splashing high upon impact. There had to be oil leaking out from somewhere. A faux rainbow etched into the ground beside him. But he did not see it.

The only thing the boy saw was his own reflection in the crazed eyes leering down at him. His hood falling away from his head revealing a shock of stark ashen gray hair; his frightened pale gray eyes.

He could not be certain if his appearance was what he truly saw. The rain too heavy as it fell into his eyes and blurred his vision. No, what he saw was what he knew to be there if he were able to look himself in a mirror.

“I-I'm alive!”

His voice cried out desperately. The sound reverberated eerily within the rain.

 

The man in front of him smiled bigger. A deprecating chuckle escaped his lips. “Not for long~♥ ” And the blade swung down.


	2. 10 years later

-10 years later-

 

“I’m alive!” The boy shouted with a jolt. His outburst startling those around him. They eyed him curiously before another voice spoke out.

“Yes, Mr. Walker. It is nice that you can join us in the world of the living.” The boy sat up straight as he was addressed. His gaze fell to the man in his mid-thirties; casually dressed in slacks, and a button up with a tie loosened around his neck. “Now, Next time you interrupt my lecture I will send you back.” The people around him stifled their laughter as some still stared at the boy, while others looked at their books in front of them.

“Understood, sir.” The boy looked around slightly abashed before sinking into his seat. As time continued to pass he kept his eyes on the clock. When it reached the one minute mark, he hurriedly packed his things away. When the last thirty seconds began to tick by he got up as silently as he could and left the room. He tried not to look over to the professor, but as he left he caught the man glancing at him through his peripheral.

Being freed from the class he was able to take a breather. The class always ran about five minutes late either way so he did not have to rush to escape anyone. Instead, he chose to stroll at a leisurely pace.

Escaping into the outside was no real escape. At four in the afternoon, there were just too many people out and about. Too many faces to be seen. The boy, though not really a boy. A teen on the threshold of adulthood in terms of numbers. He quickly scanned the area before his gaze fell to his feet.

Where everyone congregated was clearly the central hub of town and he would do his best to avoid it as he usually did. The alleyways were possibly the most secluded, and easily accessible place that there was; most convenient. He would not take them even in his desperation. Just when the thought crossed his mind, his eyes glanced up as if drawn to something. Looking up he immediately knew what.

His breath shuddered and he drew back as his eyes slightly widened at the figure that slunk and seemingly melded into the confines of the alley. _Hulking figure, bald, tattoos-_ what he chose to see.

He turned away, with his head to the floor and continued along his path. Only about a minute into his journey something collided with his shoulder once again causing him to look up.

“Oi!” A tall slender man barked into the mobile phone gripped in his hand, evidently not concerned about the one he had bumped into; or rather, not taking notice. Everything about him almost seemed too severe. His hair, which was exceedingly long for a male was pulled back in a high, tight ponytail. A long black trench coat done up all the way up to his neck. His fitted black pants barely noticeable under the other garment, especially with the pair of black knee-high boots over the pants as well. He looked like a brooding assassin out for his next kill.

Everything was black, from clothes to hair, to eyes. The colour was such a stark contrast to his flawless ivory skin, marred only by the intense scowl on his lips. “I thought you said this was the location?” The man’s words continued with its harsh edge. The voice on the other end responded and whatever it was, the man was not happy. “No shit, I must have been mistaken.” His words sarcastic. “Da-” he cut himself off as something seemed to happen on the other end. Whatever it was, ended as the man expelled a frustrated sigh. “Lavi, run the descriptions to me again.” As he said those words he began scanning the crowd. A list of traits parroted off, “White.”

The teenaged boy standing nearby was now fully invested as if he wasn’t when he first saw the man.

The man’s eyes swept over to the boy who quickly looked away as if he himself had been looking for something. He was now afraid to look back toward the man’s direction, but refused to move on.

“Bald. Mid-thirties.” The man prattled on.

The teen’s eyes widened slightly as he muttered the descriptions under his breath. He turned back to the man only to realise that his suspicious gaze had not left him. The teen began feeling the waves of self-consciousness wash over him anew and pulled the hood he was wearing further over his hair and face.

“Um…” He started and the man barked over the phone with a, “Shut up, Lavi.” before moving the phone away from his ear and turning to the teen, uttering a, “What, brat?” His frown deepening.

The teen was slightly affronted but put his personal feelings to the side. “The man you were just mentioning,” he felt no shame in basically admitting that he had been blatantly eavesdropping on the man’s conversation. “He was about six feet, four inches? A large flower tattoo, fully coloured on the-” he thought for a bit, “left side of his neck?”

The man put the phone back to his ear, his eyes never leaving the one in front of him. “Lavi,” The other end of the phone came alive now that the teen was within a close enough distance to actually hear sounds from the caller. “You heard that?” The man asked, though it wasn’t really stated as a question. “Confirm it…. Yeah…. I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.” There was one last pathetic attempt to say something from the person on the phone, but his words were cut short as the long haired man snapped the device shut.

The boy had no warning, or time to respond as a hand shot out faster than his mind allowed him to track. The man’s hand fisted and clutched the fabric at the front of his hood; pulling him forward. The motion made the hood pull back just enough to get a better look at his face and the fringe of his hair. The man’s eyes narrowed at the sight, and the boy’s body tensed. He quickly reassured himself that the man’s expressions seemed to venture only within the realms of hostility and that his reaction may have had nothing to personally do with him. But as he peered into the dark depths of the man’s eyes and saw the flecks of gray from what he could see of his own reflection, he could not be too sure. Especially with the aura of the man, the essence that had made him stop and listen to the man’s conversation in the first place.

“Why do you know that, brat?"

It was the teen’s turn to frown. It was twice now that he had been called by the insult and he enjoyed it even less the second time around.

“I may or may not have seen the guy that you’re looking for.” He played coy, though it was not intentional.

“Did you or didn't you?” The man jerked the teen forward again. His hood slipping further back. “You knew things the _usagi_ didn’t even mention yet.”

The boy was admittedly slightly puzzled. He didn’t know who or what an _usagi_ was, and doubted it was even English. He figured it was a hint toward the man’s identity and stored it, as he always did with things like that. In response to the man’s question, the teen simply nodded choosing not to further expound on the matter.

“If you know something, spit it out.” The man growled out between gritted teeth. “Where is he?”

The teen donned a frown of his own and his hands came up to grip at the man’s. “Why should I tell you? What do you want with him?” Part of him defiant, the other part truly wanting to know.

“Trust me kid, you're not making it good for yourself.”

Brat. Brat. Now _kid._ How old the man thought he truly was, the boy did not want to know. He kept silent.

As the silence stretched out between them the man opened his mouth and then quickly closed it. An annoyed sound much like ‘che’ escaped his lips. With a firm grip still kept on the boy’s hood, the man shoved his free hand deep within his own coat. He pulled out a black rectangular case that held some sort of gold design that the boy could not yet make out from the angle. With a flick of his wrist the case opened up to reveal an identification card.

The boy tried to analyze the information written there, but as fast as the man had flicked it open he had flipped it back closed.

“I’m a special agent, brat. The more you waste my time I’ll haul your ass into a cell faster than you could blink.” The man uttered, his patience wearing thin. But the boy would not be intimidated. The man’s words were inaccurate anyway as he had done nothing wrong.

He grew tired of being held so gruffly and pointed in the direction he had last seen the suspect disappear to. “He went that way.” Whatever happened did not concern the boy. If the man was taken off the streets then it would be best for everyone.

The man roughly let go of the boy and all but ran in the direction previously indicated. The boy expelled a sigh of relief. He spun around to continue on his way and came face to face with several eyes on him. The breath he had let go previously was sucked back in with a sharp intake. The people had clearly witnessed the odd exchange between both boy and man, as they whispered fiercely amongst one another. He could not hear the words, but could imagine what they were saying as they looked at him. _‘Freak._

_Look at his hair._

_That_ face _.'_

A gentle breeze blew by and ruffled the strands of his hair. His hands began to tremble as they reached for his scalp, feeling that, as expected, the hood was no longer atop his head. He quickly grabbed it and shrouded his hair and face in the shadows once more. The looks he garnered grew in number. The way they looked at him expressed more outwardly how odd and suspicious they thought his behaviour seemed, he knew.

Holding his hood in place, he ran. When he exited the town centre he ducked into the first store he came across; a bookstore.

Upon entering the establishment he cast his gaze around the immediate vicinity. No one seemed to take notice of him as there was hardly anyone around. He caught his breath and moved further into the store. A bookstore would prove convenient as he could catch up on some reading for an assignment that was due soon.

The boy found a quiet, secluded aisle and sat within the rows; his school supplies fanned out around him. He managed to pass a good length of time in that fashion before gathering his things. He had also found a book on an interesting subject matter of the supernatural. He was not particularly keen on wasting his time away by reading mindlessly, but if he could acquire useful knowledge from said pursuits, it was worth the read.

By the time the boy exited the store, the sun had begun to fade for the day. As it departed behind buildings and sunk into the skyline, beautiful hues of pastel pinks and oranges burst forth trying to show their captivating colours before they too faded. Calm, tranquil blues and purples creeping into the sky filling the gaps where the pastels could no longer reach.

The town square began to truly come alive- boisterous, gruff voices barked out jovially as lighter voices seemed to tinkle through the coming night, filling the air like musical notes. The direction of the square lit with colours matching the sky, also filled with ones that weren't- fluorescent greens, reds, and yellows.

The boy was grateful that he had made his escape prior. The streets he walked were as peaceful as the encroaching night. His hood securely in place expertly hiding his features with the help of the surrounding darkness. He tucked the book into his backpack, the lack of light making it hard to read. His curiosity over his purchase would have to wait to be sated for two reasons- he would not risk his eyesight trying to make out the tiny print on the book jacket, and the hand that fell upon his shoulder now demanded his full attention.

The boy was spun around to face his assailant and he had to bite back a disheartened ‘oh, it’s you.’ He was once again standing face to face with the severe man from earlier and could not tell how he felt about the second encounter. Before he could inquire on the search of the tattooed suspect from before, the boy felt the sharp, cold sting of something clamping down on his wrists. He looked down in surprise to the metallic glint of handcuffs, and before he could express his shock with an embittered ‘what the hell is this?’ the man cut him off with his own words.

“I warned you, beansprout.” The man’s voice was as rough as ever. The name making the boy sputter, affronted as he was grabbed by the forearm and dragged behind the other.

“Hey!” The boy called out, anxiety quickly mounting the more steps they took. His movements becoming more frantic, but the man showed no sign of letting his grip slip. There would most likely be a bruise in its place later on.

“Keep struggling. Just proves you have something to hide.”

“What?” The boy asked, confusion clearly marring his words. Their pace never slowing even as the conversation grew intense. “What are you talking about?” he reiterated. “I haven’t done anything to deserve this.”

The man made a ‘tch’ sound with his mouth but said nothing more.

The boy made a frustrated noise, but before he could voice his annoyance, an ‘oomph’ sound escaped him instead. His body connected with something firm, and leathery. He lifted his face just in time to see the man settle behind a steering wheel and realised he was in the backseat of a car.

“Hey!” The boy's voice pitched an octave higher than what he was used to. By now his heart pumped a mile a minute. He was a hummingbird in flight even as he tried to right himself in the seat. The soft sound of the engine purring to life met his ears and he was now in a full panic. He wriggled his way to one door, jiggling the handle to see if it would budge- it didn’t.

“Have to keep the children protected.” The boy heard the man say and looked up into the rearview mirror where their eyes locked onto one another. The smirk was not present on his lips, but present in his voice. It was yet another mocking jab at the boy’s appearance, he knew. But he also caught the real meaning behind the words- the child safety lock was engaged which meant there was no way the boy could get out of the back seat from the inside.

“You can’t do this!” the boy tried another angle. “Where are you taking me?”

“I already told you, beansprout. I’m a special agent. Use your head, brat.

And with that, he was done. There were so many things to be said about the man’s words, but the only thing that the boy could focus on was the nicknames. The amount of times he had been called something deeming because of his appearance since his meeting the man, he could no longer recall. He was tired of it however.

“My name is Allen!” He kicked at the driver seat, frustrated. If his hands had been freed, they would have been thrown over his head in indigitation. “Not kid. Not brat, not  _child_ . Not bloody _beansprout._ Allen Walker! And I’m 19 years old! And...” The words tumbling out as if they were a set, forever paired one with the other. In a way they were. He had said them so many times together. His mantra of sanity. He had almost said the last piece ' _And I’m alive'_ before cutting himself off. Now- now he only needed the first two. Now it was to rebuke the rude man that apparently had no qualms about insulting him.  

“Keep being cooperative. Just like that and we’ll be done in no time.”

When Allen looked into the rearview mirror he saw that the smug smirk was finally present on the man’s face. For the rest of the ride the boy fell silent.

\----

How much time had exactly passed by, the boy did not know. There was an analog clock in front of the vehicle but he avoided looking in that general direction. He almost could not believe his luck. As if his circumstances weren’t already bad, he had to be accosted by the most ill-mannered officer- if he was to be believed- in the history of his life. Part of Allen believed that this would be the moment it all ended. The point where the job was done and he could finally be at peace. The worse part about it was how conflicted his heart felt. Part of him was resigned to his fate, if this was how it was meant to end, so be it. Another part of him felt like it was not fair, that he did nothing to deserve this. He thought that it was perhaps basic human instinct of survival. Though even that did not feel as if that was all there was to it. He felt something else, much bigger- something akin to having a purpose.

He scoffed and caught the man’s eyes as they, through his peripheral, glanced up toward the rear-view to stare at him. He ignored it and continued looking out the back window.

The windows were heavily tinted, and he could not get a true gauge of the darkness of the night. He almost wished that the car would never stop moving. He would stay in this time forever moving under the cover of night as the stars shone above.

All too soon, they stopped moving. Allen finally allowed himself to look forward as he heard the engine shut off. The man gave no indication of answering as he exited the vehicle, and the boy did not ask again. Instead, he took the time to observe his surroundings; his eye squinting against the dark trying to make out anything distinct that he would be able to use for later- if need be. It proved near impossible before the door suddenly opened before him and the darkness began to take form.

Beside the obnoxious man now in front of him, Allen could see a medium sized gray building; near the roof held an insignia that he could only guess was identical to the one on the man’s ID. Some sort of gothic rose. The building did not look like any police station Allen had seen before and that small fact set him on edge once more.The man had called himself a special agent, but even those in that profession worked out of a police station, did they not.

Before he could utter a word, or think to run- or at least try- he was once again apprehended and dragged toward the building.

“Just remember. If I die it will forever be on your consciousness. I hope you can live with that.” The boy spoke words that fell on deaf ears, and before long he was forced through the entrance.

The inside was a different atmosphere from the outside, and the boy could actually allow himself to believe that he was not kidnapped by some psycho. It was lively, male and female- though mostly male- sat or stood around animatedly chatting with one another. Files stuffed with papers in hand, as some people leaned over others to show them what was hidden inside. One man, his hair all black with a cowlick of white stood next to another looking like the cup of coffee in his hand was the only thing keeping him alive.

The people the boy saw seemed to fit the part of their jobs. Suspenders thrown over plain buttoned-up collared shirt, or muscle tees with their holsters in view. Everyone had a jacket flung over their chair backs. The boy was so engrossed in the scenery that he had failed to see the man who now stood right in front of him.

“Take care of this.” The man uttered, giving the boy a slight shove to the other, before walking off somewhere.

“Hey.” Allen retorted half-heartedly, already exhausted from continuous encounters with the man.

When the man was out of range, the boy focused his attention on the new arrival. Flaming red hair that shone brightly even in the harsh fluorescent lighting of the room was the first thing he noticed. Next was the equally bright green eye that set its gaze on him when the man turned to him. One was all he saw though, his right was covered with a simple black eyepatch.

“Hey, beansprout. Nice to meet’cha.” The redhead spoke, too cheerful for both time of day and circumstances.

Allen was about to respond pleasantly in kind until his mind caught up to what was actually said. “I’m not a beansprout! My name is Allen Walker. Allen!”

The redhead just laughed and waved him off. “We should continue this elsewhere, yeah.” The redhead placed his hand on the boy’s back and gently prompted him to move forward. The two walked through the room, garnering looks from those present. It was to be expected as Allen was being led somewhere while in handcuffs. Even though, the way the redhead handled him was leaps and bounds better than how he was treated by the angry long haired man from before. He went along with no resistance.

The two arrived at a small room separated from the other by a door. Inside only held the bare minimum in terms of furniture; a long rectangular table, and three matching metal chairs. One where he was led to sit and two others on the opposite side. The lighting was dull, bathing the space in shades of yellow rather than the white the previous light had. The redhead also took a sit and took it as an initiative to begin speaking. “T’ name’s Lavi. Ya’ kno… You don’t look like a criminal sidekick. ‘M not just sayin’ that ‘cause you’re short ‘n unassuming.”

“Gee. Thanks.” Allen’s mind hooked onto the man’s name as it sounded familiar. He soon remembered that it was the very same name that had passed through the other man’s lips. _Lavi, run the descriptions to me again._ Is what he had said. “Ah, the man from the phone. I honestly don’t know how you put up with that guy. I haven’t spent much time in his presence and you could not pay me enough to change that.” Allen commented with a huff.

Lavi laughed again, it seemed good-natured and real. “Yuu’s not that bad.”

Allen quirked a brow. He was not one hundred percent sure if that was part of the man’s verbal tick or- “You…?”

“No, Yuu.” _Was that not what he just said..._

“Me?” The conversation was beginning to derail and got nowhere very quickly.

“Yuu. That’s his first name. Yuu Kanda.”

“Call me that and you’ll wish you _were_ dead.” Allen would not want to either way. Having a name that also served as a pronoun, or at the very least sounded like one, seemed like it would bring lots of confusion and be more trouble than it was worth.

The door opened bringing white light into the room. The contrast of the two separated light sources painting the man in shadows, making him look like some sort of ethereal being come to deliver divine punishment.

The man, finally identified, made his way over to the other two occupants. His steps and attitude seemed to reflect how the light had portrayed him as he seemed to glide across the floor as if everyone else was beneath him and undeserving of his time.

As he reached the table he threw a file that he’d held in his hands at the same time he took a seat in the only other available chair. His body partially reclined; his arm resting on the chair back, his legs crossed one over the other.

The file had slid across the table and stopped in front of the boy. He looked down at the brown folder and looked back to the man. Lavi, on the side, blinked inquiringly as if he had no inkling of what was taking place.

Allen looked at the file and sent a gaze at Kanda, then Lavi, before ultimately settling on the prior. “What is this?” He spoke referring to the item before him.

“Why don’t you tell me.” Was Kanda’s cryptic response

The boy spared one last look at the redhead before he raised his hand to the table, finally having the courage to look within the confines of the folder. He could feel the eyes on him; Lavi, curious while Kanda appeared almost vindictive- wanting him to be caught within some lie that he was not even aware of telling. He peeked at the content and immediately closed the folder once again. His lips pulled down into a frown as he focused all his attention on the long haired man.

His emotions bubbled within him and his voice was tight and strained when he spoke, “Why do you have this?”

At this point, Lavi was beside himself with curiosity and he reached for the folder to see what had gotten the boy so worked up. Allen saw the action and slammed his hand onto the folder before the redhead could take it for his own. He spared Lavi a cursory warning glance before addressing Kanda again. “Tell me.”

A smirk stretched across Kanda’s lips as he leant more comfortably in his chair. “I’m the one asking the questions, _beansprout._ ” The way he said the word was clearly meant to be a jab; add insult of his appearance to the injury of his predicament.

“These files were meant to remain private.” Allen reiterated.

“So you admit there’s something to keep secret.” Kanda’s smugness was exuded not just by his appearance, but even by his words.

“I was a juvenile.”

“Just another dumb word to make kids feel like they can get away with anything.”

At this point, Lavi’s curiosity was oozing from his very being. He leant forward in his chair, eyes going between the file and the pleading youth. “I did nothing wrong.” Allen’s fists balled and he retracted them to his lap. Lavi felt no remorse when he used the opportunity to snatch up the file. His eyes darting through the information like a desert stranded man trying to get his fill of water.

Allen’s voice rose at Lavi’s actions and he tried to snatch the file from the man nearly leaping across the table to do so. He failed the first time, Lavi not even looking at his direction as his eyes continued to scan the words. It took the boy until his third try, which was still relatively quick, before he was able to secure the papers against his chest; his most precious and intimate secrets under the radar to be observed.

Lavi now leant back, mimicking Kanda’s posture. Allen did not understand why- the man had obviously gotten some information about him, but there was no way he could know everything in such a short span of time.

The redhead let out a low whistle. “T’at’s not what I call nothin’.”

“Just forget whatever you think you saw.” The frown deepened on Allen’s visage as he tried to straighten himself as not to look as distraught as he felt.

“I don’t _think_ anything.”

“The rabbit might act dumb, but he’s one of the smartest people you’ll ever meet.” Kanda folded his arms and almost challenged the boy before him to speak up again. But it was Lavi who took the chance. He lightly tapped his index finger to the side of his head. “Photographic memory” was all he said by way of explanation. Allen paled.

Lavi himself was still in high spirits after being praised by the ever stoic detective, “Aww, Yuu~ I never knew you thought so highly of me. Ma heart’s gonna explode.”

“Let it.” Kanda grumbled as his lips pulled lower at the corners, “Don’t make me regret it, idiot.”

“So.” The smile slipped off of Lavi’s face, “Mental hospital, huh?”

“That was confidential. I could sue you.”

Kanda scoffed, clear disdain colouring the sound. “Try it. You let a criminal get away.” Allen gritted his teeth.

“No, I did not.

Kanda quirked an eyebrow and scanned the room as if he were looking for something. “Oi, Lavi.” The redhead turned to him, his own eyes shining with curiosity. “You see our suspect in here?”

“Nope. Thought he got away?” Lavi played into the role so well and Allen’s entire outlook on him changed almost instantly. He’d shown nothing but smiles, and have a happy disposition, but Allen now saw it all as an act. Something completely fake, and it worried him somewhat.

“That’s what I thought.” Kanda’s gaze settled back onto the boy. He was once again completely serious.

“That’s not what I wa-” Allen began but his words were swiftly cut off when Kanda uttered, “You working with him?”

“What?” The boy cried out. He looked off to the side, his frown ever present. Any longer and he feared it would become permanent like Kanda’s seemed to be. “I don’t even know him.”

“That’s not what it looked like. You knew a lot about him.”

“Because I _saw_ him.” Out of the corner of his eyes, Allen saw Lavi lean forward- his body pressed against the metal table. Allen drew back reflectively.

“You know~” Lavi began with cryptic words, “when people lie, there’re these habits they develop. Things that give ‘em away, yeah? A tell. Ever heard of it?”

“I have no clue what you’re speaking of.” The boy looked away from the redhead, but quickly darted back as the man exclaimed a faux excited “AH!”

“I think you do, Allen, because I know what your tell is.” His words rang out in sing-song. The way he said them were somewhat taunting as if he knew that Allen was about to get in trouble for something he had done.

“Firstly I don’t think you know me well enough to make assumptions about what you believe my _tell_ is. Secondly, whatever it is you think you know would be false because I’m not lying.”

Kanda looked absolutely bored at this point. It felt like it was going nowhere and his annoyance was quickly mounting. Either way Lavi continued, completely in his element and more than happy to share his exponential amount of knowledge that many times seemed pointless. “See, Allen. When you lie, your eyes wander off to the side like you’re tryin’ to think of something to say.” Allen straightened. “ _That’s_ why I think you do know more about that guy than you’re letting on.”

“What?” Allen’s voice came out in a whisper before it gained more strength. “I told you I don’t-”

“See!” Lavi exclaimed looking over to Kanda who in turn had his eyes trained on the boy as well. Inspecting him.

“Yeah, I see it.”

The boy began feeling uncomfortable under the scrutiny. His shoulders hunched. He knew he shouldn’t under the circumstances but his gaze fell to the table.

“Do you know him, Allen?”

“I already told you that I don’t!” The boy launched out of his seat in anger. He backed away from the table to give himself more breathing room because currently he felt suffocated in the tiny space.

“See, I believe that. But what I don’t believe is that you know nothing about him.”

“I-” he caught himself before his gaze could wander too far away from the problem at hand. For good measure, he looked the redhead right in his eye. “I don’t know whatever it is you think I know.”

The three occupants of the room were stuck in a sudden stalemate. Two staring at one. The youngest looking of the three faltered growing nervous before finally looking away. “Look, I told you what I know… I saw the man as I was walking through the town square. I don't know him personally. Sorry. It seems like you need this to be true but no matter how bad you want it, I can't admit to something I had no part in.”

Lavi leant back in his chair at the same time Kanda scoffed. The ponytailed man unlapped his legs and unfolded his arms before standing. Allen's eyes locked onto Kanda and continued to trail after the man as he got closer and closer. The redhead, the only person still seated, let out a low whistle.

Closer. The man was getting closer, and closer still. The moment Allen noticed he began to retreat. Tit for tat. Some odd sort of dance he didn't agree to participate in. A game of cat and mouse. Every step Kanda took forward, he took one back.

So it went till he could no more. The room was small as is, and soon enough he was met with his back against the wall; Kanda, now closer, hovering over him. But closer inspection proved the man not that much taller. He seemed only a few centimetres taller than Allen's one hundred and seventy four. The fact suddenly made a bud of resentment grow because _who was this misplaced era looking pissy man to call him a beansprout when he was not even that much taller._

He almost said as much. His pale pink lips parted to announce his displeasure when he was swiftly cut off by Kanda's hand slamming against the wall beside his head. The initial impact startled him. He did not yet know if that small revelation made him ashamed or angry. He didn't get to voice that either as Kanda spat out a harsh, “Turn around.”

“W-what? Why!” Allen's voice heightened and shook over the demand. The questioning only served in making Kanda more annoyed. And he didn't ask again. Allen's body was roughly turned around before he received his second command.

“Put your hands up against the wall. Above your head.”

“What are you doing!?” Allen's voice came out higher still but he dared not turn back around. Whether Lavi felt mercy for him or simply liked the sound of his own voice, the redhead spoke up by way of explanation.

“Oooo~ you're getting Yuu’s famous search. You should feel lucky.”

“Search!? What did I do now?” He certainly did not feel lucky, and he would not comment on the underlying meaning behind Lavi’s words. But knowing what was taking place he complied and lifted his hands. What took place next made him a little red in the face, he was sure.

‘Kanda's hands were all over him’ was the easiest way to put it. The man's hands seemed to roam everywhere. Allen looked down feeling the shame of being arrested or more specifically, being caught, without the two fully being connected. Kanda's body heat radiated off of him and warmed Allen's face, neck, and ears. The search was probably routine- legs, arms, chest. Allen gasped and his head swiveled, looking toward Lavi as a cry for help. And he said as much, “Are you just going to let this happen?”

A shrug. That was the best that the redhead could offer. Along with words that would better work kept to himself, “Just procedure. Sorry.” Insincere.

After what felt uncomfortably like forever, Kanda was satisfied with his search. Or rather, he found something else to do with his time. The man walked back over to the table and Allen turned to see something that had not been there before. His backpack lay upon the surface. And Kanda rifled through it like it belonged to him.

“Hey.” Allen uttered in surprise. The long haired man ignored him until he apparently retrieved what he'd sort. Allen recognized the book he had gotten earlier after his first encounter with Kanda and shortly before his second. Both unpleasant but nothing compared to the current third which did not even have sufficient words to describe how bad it was.

“You stole this.” The long haired man announced. The claim earned Lavi’s attention as well. Though it was without a doubt that the redhead had already been watching the exchange like a hawk. Picking and consuming details and information like a vulture.

“Excuse me?” Allen turned fully around to better portray his appall.

“Saw you tucking this away in your bag, sprout.”

“At least have the common courtesy to _ask_ whether someone stole something or not.” The younger boy had to force himself not to roll his eyes. _Who did this man honestly think he was._ As Allen spoke he began searching through his hoodie pocket pulling out a small piece of paper. Holding it up to show the two men the receipt. “Secondly, you might want to have your eyes checked.”

No one said anything for a second and Allen lost what was left of his patience.

“Now if we're quite done here, because I am. I know my rights, and I would like to leave as there is nothing else that you could possibly hope to pin on me. Because that's what that was, was it not? You can't make me admit to knowing someone I don't, so you try to make me admit to something I didn't do?” He gestured to the book gripped within Kanda's white knuckled fist. “No amount of sexual harassment that you try to mask as a routine search will change that. Shame on you.” Here he threw a look toward Lavi so that he could share in the beratement.

With every sentence, Kanda's eyes narrowed further and further. The very air around him seemed to thicken with tension and darken. As Allen spoke his last sentence, throwing a look at Lavi, Kanda strode with long menacing strides toward the boy once more. He could barely turn his head back to Kanda before he found himself once again handled roughly. Pushed up against the wall- a pissed off Kanda leaning uncomfortably close to him, into his personal space.

“Listen here, _Moyashi_. Make one slip up and I will find you. Wherever you are, I'll be there if you cross me.” Allen swallowed a lump in his throat. Kanda backed away. “Get out of my sight.”

The two stood peering into each other's eyes. Allen defiant, not wanting Kanda to feel like he won but also not wanting to actually remain in the man's presence. The boy stuck his nose into the air and breezed past the pissy man even though his hackles were raised.

He strode to the table gathering his bag, and as Lavi's gaze focused on Kanda, Allen's hand darted out taking the folder containing all his personal information.

And he left. Left the room, left the building, left all the unpleasant things that just happened behind. At least he tried to. Outside in the open, the sky had gotten incredibly dark. There were no blended blues and purples painting the canvas of the sky. Only _dark_ remained. Though he was admittedly surprised by the sprinkling of stars littered across the night sky.

He cast a final glance at the building he had just exited, and stepped onward into the night.

\---

“You sure that was okay, Yuu?” Lavi looked at the man sitting on the table in the room that the interrogation had taken place only minutes ago.

The man evaded the question and said nothing at all. His arms crossed as he presented the perfect image of a child who had not gotten his way.

“Maybe I'll go give ‘im a ride. It's pretty late. And dark. Kid looks cute and helpless.” The redhead chuckled at his own words as if he'd said something funny.

Kanda only spared him a glance as he was sitting in line of his peripheral. But before he could say more, the long haired man got up and exited the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all are continuing to enjoy the story~ :)
> 
> Also, was the chapter too long? Is it better to have it in shorter segments or is this length fine?  
> Thank you~


	3. Subject to change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, so here's a bit of a recap:
> 
> Allen has an unpleasant run in with a detective by the name of Kanda Yuu. After a misunderstanding of being aid to a wanted man, Allen is found at the wrong end of the law. Brought under weak suspicion, he is subjected to an interrogation and brought face to face with a file containing parts of his past that he had rather have kept in the past.

Not even a full day had passed.

Allen sat on his bed, the rough surface scratching at his skin even beneath the beige sheets. _Had he changed them?_ he wondered, not remembering doing so but remembering that the sheets had not always been that colour. _Ah_ , the fabric was a lighter pale peach turned dark from the dust that had collected in its fibers. Dead skin had shed and settled from when he slept. His skin crawled. He needed to do the laundry... but not now.

Now, with his legs pulled firmly to his chest, arms encircling them to keep them in place- his chin resting on the points of his knees, he stared blankly at the document before him. The manila folder tried blending with his sheets but the words upon the file within prevented it from doing so. He could not ignore it no matter how he tried. Reality would not simply fade from wishing it so.

His eyes ran over the words, shifting to the right before snapping back to the left as a typewriter would amidst the most engaging scene of a novel in progress. All consuming. He couldn’t help but devour the information as if it were not his own; as if he didn’t already know everything written there.

 _It’s already been nine years…_ Nine years since he had lived within the confines of a white room with no other company but his own. It hadn’t started like that though, he recalled. He remembered all the faces that he would see when he went to the cafeteria. All the faces he saw when he went outside. Whenever he went….wherever he went, the faces were there.

Then they weren’t. Nothing but white walls and ceilings.

The sanatorium employees worried that confinement was a cruel fate for one so young. But it only got better without the people. That’s the only reason Allen was now staring at the face of who he once was, in a room painted black- the furthest thing from white. The only place he wouldn’t- couldn’t see the faces. And to everyone who cared, he was “cured.” He wasn’t though, and was not inclined to believe he ever would be, but he would continue living the lie if it meant he could live it on his own terms.

The boy sighed before closing the folder. He snuggled down beneath the cover sheet and closed his eyes inviting the darkness behind his eyelids to consume him. He hoped his dreams would be as black as his walls.

 

He didn’t know how much time had passed, or if any had passed at all but the next time he opened his eyes it was to a loud rhythmic knocking on his front door. He tried to ignore it but it did not stop, seeming only to get louder as if whoever was behind it had been at it for a while and was quickly losing patience.

The boy groaned and rolled out of bed. He hit the ground practically running- trudging, albeit quickly. By the time he got to the front door the remnants of sleep began to wear off. His hand touched the handle but his mind caught up to his actions with a jolt and he gripped the doorknob rather than turning it. One glance out the peephole would let him know that it was the best decision he had made for the day.

A short woman stood on the other end of the door. Her face screwed up, features pinched together in her annoyance. Her greying hair wild- bits of brown still smattered around the roots- as if his room was the first stop she had made once the sun rose high enough in the sky. And it probably was.

The woman raised her fist to rap loudly at the door once more. Even though Allen had seen her fist raise, the knock still made his heart stutter and race as adrenaline kicked in coursing through his veins.

“Walker!” The woman finally remembering that she had a voice, used it to shout his name. His heart skipped a beat and his hand flew to his mouth to keep the startled yelp from escaping. He stood before the door in uncertainty. _Had she heard him gasp. Had she not?_ By the time the fist rose again to knock, much harder and insistent than before- she was clearly not a frail woman despite looks- Allen decided not to waste anymore time wondering about the answer. The lady was quickly losing patience and the boy had finally gathered enough wits about him to remember that, yes, she would have a key to open his rented space whether he wanted her to or not. The knocking was simply pleasantries that he had negated by not answering.

Allen backed away from the door as quickly and quietly as he could, hoping not to accidentally trigger his presence in his haste- if he hadn't already. As he passed by his bed, he hesitated for half a second. _Crap._ He had forgotten his shoes by the door, but it was too late for those. He had bedroom slippers. Ridiculous pink bunny slippers, the face in a wink, tongue stuck out. _Why was it so hideous? What store would even carry such a thing?_ It was a present and he was thankful for it in the moment. He shoved his feet in, grabbed his backpack and stuffed the file inside. The last thing on his list before making his escape was a gray pullover hoodie draped over the chair by his bed.

He thought he heard a _click_ in the background. He opened his window and climbed through.

It was sadly not the most stupid thing he had done up to that current moment in his life. Maybe. And he could feel like if his future was laid out before him to see, that it would not be the last. But there was a pipe connected to the wall and he hung onto it for dear life. Just as he got a steady grip he heard angry footsteps in the room he had just left. Mumbles reached his ear but he could not make out the words. Until he could.

“Ah. I guess the boy wasn’t here.” Allen’s heart wasn’t sure if it should speed up or slow down in his panic because the landlady was standing right next to the window. He could see those long wild wispy strands of grey get caught and blow freely in the wind. “What is this room-” the woman’s voice continued before being cut off as the window closed.

Allen sighed with relief. The woman had not thought to think of how resourceful Allen Walker was. But he was as he skillfully, albeit clumsily in his nerves, shimmied down the pipe until he was close enough to jump safely to the pavement below. He donned his hoodie not bothering to take in his surroundings. His room was situated at the back of the building so no one would see him. He shouldered his backpack and took off at a brisk pace.

It wasn’t until a few minutes into his walk that the staring began to bother him. Though for once it was not because of his physical appearance, he still did not appreciate the attention. Passersby looked at the boy’s choice of footwear in wonder. He had heard a girl cry out almost as if the things had done her eyes personal offense, “Where do you even buy shoes that ugly.” _No clue._ It was something he still could not conjure an answer to. Actually, he wanted to find out something more pressing and important, but banal conversation about pink bunny slippers would suit the man. Lower his guard to make his lips looser when the real questions came.

The file in Allen’s bag weighed heavy upon his shoulders. He would need to make a phone call soon.

 

Allen felt a lot more at home within the confines of his university. Dressed in loose plaid night pants, a loose pullover, and absurdly pink bedroom slippers- he fit right in with a number of people his age who looked like they rolled out of bed and came right to school. For once their gazes did not linger when they breezed by him.

At first no one really cared either way. It was university and there were a number of people who used their bodies for self expression. Some even liked the attention they got for being so unusual. Allen was not like that. Quickly he became very different in their eyes. He acted strangely at times, they would say. Someone saw him scream and run while in public for no reason, the rumours explained. Allen didn’t care though, is what he kept telling himself. He functioned when he needed to, is what he wanted himself to believe.

He chose self-isolation, and in a way he never truly escaped from those very white walls that surrounded his past.

The boy shook his head to dispel his current thoughts. He dug around in his backpack extracting the book he had purchased yesterday. Just the sight of the book initially brought up the unpleasant memories of the night before with the long haired jerkface whom he had mentally coined as ‘the worst detective that ever was.’

With a shake of his head he tried to block that man out of his mind and focused on the words that slowly came into focus on the pages before him.

It all seemed a bit fantastical. Though he was not the person to claim his situation was anything but. If anyone had approached him to tell him that they saw what he did now...in an alternative universe where he was not himself...Allen would not believe them. He couldn’t because it all seemed too out there. Was that not why he spent his childhood prisoner to the white walls described as treatment?

But...what if... _What if I’m_ not _the only one…._ The boy shut the book and pushed it aside on the desk, shifting in his seat to have better accommodation of the computer before him. He booted it up and imputed his student identification and password, tapping his fingers impatiently against the desk surface as the screen loaded. Before the main window popped up, the previous screen dipped black and Allen was faced with his reflection. He swallowed and averted his gaze until the computer was responsive and he could finally move his mouse around the screen. _There has to be someone else…._

He switched to the internet browser and immediately began typing words that popped into his head:

_Deformed Spirits_

_Being able to see things others can’t_

_Seeing souls?_

_Killers?_

_Moeyahshee?_

_Moeyahshe japanese_

_Can normal people see what's inside someone else?_

_What’s “normal”?_

_Freak_

_Am I crazy…………_

 

Allen pushed back from the computer screen, his head thrown back against the back of the chair. The results he had seen were not encouraging...when he was actually able to find results. A frown etched onto his features. The only concrete thing he was able to find out was that the long haired detective really was a prick. During his search he had remembered what the man had briefly called him, because it was certainly no word that he knew. But upon looking it up he saw that one) the word really was Japanese and two) Allen was being called a bean sprout. He grit his teeth trying to forgot the unpleasant thoughts that surfaced in his mind and instead tried to think about what he had originally wanted real answers to. Though, those didn’t come back as helpful as he had wanted them to either.

Most searches led to nothing, others led to psychological analyst reports. Studies and people who claimed they saw things.

He had tried to read the words he saw, but the more he read the heavier his heart became. He felt cold. Apparently the logical explanation was that what he saw were but figments of his imagination. It was _“all in your head.”_ Words he wanted to forget came back to haunt him. Was it really? Maybe he really was ill. His mind playing tricks on him.

He swallowed and looked at the screen trying to focus on the image behind the words and pictures. The picture of himself that he could just barely make out to see the lies his mind invented. On the screen he looked normal- he couldn’t see himself clearly- it was all hair and eyes. All dark and reassuring. Then the screen went black in its idleness.

Allen looked over to someone sitting about three computers away from him. Notebooks open, a pencil case strewn to the side of them. They were probably doing an assignment. Allen got up and walked over.

“Hello.” He tried to smile and wasn’t sure how it looked. But after the initial startle of having someone suddenly approach, the other occupant turned to him and smiled back.

“Hey. What’s up?”

“Ah, I forgot my pencil case in my hurry to get to school today.” Allen laughed on cue. “Can I borrow one of yours.”

“Sure thing. Pencil or Pen?” The person seemed absolutely nonplussed, taking out a pencil in one hand and a pen in the other. Was Allen normal?

“A pen should be fine.” He watched as the other put the pen hand out for him to take, and he did. He stood beside the chair, not moving. _That_ wasn't normal.

“Do you need something else?”

“Ah. No. A pen is fine. Thank you.” He smiled again and turned to return to his seat. But before he did he could see the other student shrug and go back to what they were doing, his presence completely ignored.

Allen sighed and eased back into his chair. The computer at this point completely dead and he would have to re-enter his password to have access once more. He stared at his reflection, ashen grey hair and eyes looking back at him. He touched the area beneath his left eye. And for the first time since it had happened, Allen thought that maybe he should have stayed within those padded white walls.

 

As time wore on, Allen was forced to remember that he would have to return to his apartment at some point in the day. Earlier rather than later if he was given the choice. But he couldn’t go back without money because that was what the morning fiasco had been about- he knew. He was late with rent, again. An occurrence that was more common than not, and that always left him surprised that he had somewhere to go back to at the end of the day. And going to his apartment and scrounging through the drawers, and pockets of his clothes, and any other tiny crevices around the place would not give him the financial security he needed.

He needed a plan, and his mind ran to the one thing he could think of that would give him the kind of fast money that he needed. He continued walking, the buildings around him changing from quaint college town brownstone two stories, to olden building worn out from lack of upkeep. The paint peeling, doors kept open, for- whatever. And as he kept walking his mind began to wander taking him back to the night before.

 

_“Beansprout!” The sound of the redhead from the police department called after him after he had left the building and only managed to get about two blocks away. His shoulders tensed at both the voice and the name, but he continued walking- neither quickening or slowing his pace.”_

_“Hey. Hey! Beansprout!”_

_Allen’s lips pulled at the corners into a frown, at least he tried. He never got it quite right and it was always more pout than anything else._

_“Beansprout. Wait up.”_

_The man was persistent. Allen eventually found himself stopping only to whirl around. “My name is ALLEN. Not that horrendous thing you think passes as a nickname.” When he took in the redhead’s face, it lit up with a breezy smile, a dark glint of humour -at other’s pain- lighting his single visable eye. Allen bit back a groan as the detective came closer._

_Lavi wasted no time to make his intentions known. “Let me take ya home, ya? It’s late out.”_

_“And Bob’s your uncle.” Allen deadpanned, but he only received a slight tilt of Lavi’s head to show the older man’s confusion. “Anyway. I don’t need you to take me home. I’m a big boy.”_

_Lavi hummed giving him a once over. Allen remembered that Kanda was slightly taller than himself. And Lavi was even taller than the foul mouthed other detective._

_“It goes against my nature- being a detective and all- to let someone go home alone so late when there’s danger all about.”_

_“Forgive me for my rudeness when I say that the only sense of danger I really felt today was left back at the station.” Allen’s eyes furrowed and narrowed at the redhead to let him know that he could very well be a part of that equation._

_Lavi chuckled sheepishly. “All right, Yuu’s a little rough on the edges-” Allen scrunched his nose, his mind heading to confusion before remembering Kanda’s first name. “-but he means well. Trust me.”_

_Allen didn't bother to voice his doubt on the issue. He was sure his face showed it clearly enough._

_“Come on. I could answer any question ya have.”_

_Allen didn't have questions, but he suddenly felt the day’s fatigue wash over him and he wanted to get to bed as soon as possible, so maybe a drop wouldn’t be_ too _bad. He sighed. “Fine.”_

_That was how he’d end up in Lavi’s beaten up copper red hatchback cruising down a series of empty streets after midnight. The silence between them lasted all of a minute. The length of time it took for Lavi to turn the engine, and Allen realised that beyond his better judgement, he maybe did have some questions._

_“What exactly do you specialise in? Your cases.”_

_“Mostly serial killers, but we do a bit of everything.”_

_“Serial killers, huh. Well after seeing the way Kanda treats regular civilians, it’s no wonder they stay elusive.” And then he felt he needed to reiterate a point he had had to prove way too many times over the course of the night. “I really don’t know that man.”_

_Lavi only gave him a sidelong glance as they drove. He didn’t say anything more until they got to the traffic light. The red colour signaling him to stop._

_“Tryin’ to hide that info only made things more suspicious.”_

_“Right… Because people just want others to know about their personal lives, and things that don’t concern them.” Allen pointed with a “turn here” even though Lavi had been using GPS before folding his arms and brooding._

_“If you’d been a bit more cooperative things coulda been solved faster.”_

_Allen thought about just glaring out the window, but then he thought better, and turned his glare toward the redhead. He didn’t say anything though._

_“Tryin’ to hide the file didn’t help either.”_

_Allen continued glaring.  “Which I know you have by the way.”_

_“Oh, believe me. I don’t care one way or the other.”_

_“That is evidence belonging to the police department.”_

_“It is evidence containing my personal life. So once again, excuse me if I fail at caring. If this is some half-arsed attempt at saying you want the file back and this is what all of this-” Allen gestured around the car, “is all about then I’m sorry for your wasted efforts.” Lavi looked at him, mouth open about to say something but Allen didn’t let him. “You can let me out here.”_

_Lavi eyed his GPS to see that they were still about three blocks away from the destination. When he mentioned as much, Allen only repeated himself and pointed to the curb signaling to pull over. He had given the redhead the wrong address anyway, but being in the car was proving no less calming._

_They’d managed to drive a whole other block before Lavi finally complied. He pulled over to the side and Allen stomped out of the car in a huff. Lavi sat in the idling vehicle just waiting as if he expected Allen to realise how unreasonable he was being and get back into the car. He instead slung his bag over his shoulder and began the trek to his apartment. Lavi, ever persistent drove alongside him- not saying a word. Every time Allen looked over, he would see that emerald like green eye staring back at him. When Allen passed by a gap between two houses he slipped in between not feeling bad in the slightest ditching the other man._

 

Allen shook himself out of his thoughts. Without warning he crashed into something and thought it to be a wall, when he gained his wits he looked up to see anything but. A startled scream ripped from his throat, followed by a panicked “Get away from me!” It was reflex.

He fell back, willing himself to look at something solid. Look at something real. When he was finally able to he saw a giant man with a severe grimace etched onto their lips. Teeth bared.

Allen stumbled to his feet ready to turn tail and flee. He was met with the faces of those around him, looking at him as if he had lost it. Allen wasn’t sure he had “ _it”_ to begin with. As he ran, he heard the trail ends of whispers of “what the hell is wrong with the kid” and “poor boy.” He didn’t want to pity. He didn’t want the attention.

He should have been looking where he was going, it wouldn’t have gotten to him so badly. He hated crowded streets. There were always so many people out and about with so many walks of life. Lives that Allen wanted nothing to do with.

It took several blocks before he was able to stop. When he did, his mind immediately- unwillingly- raced back to what he had just seen, and his body doubled over, retchs making his throat convulse before he was emptying all that he had eaten that day onto the floor. Seeing the discoloured liquid now before him, at his feet, he was sourly reminded that what he had eaten was much of nothing. The twisting pain of hunger in his stomach making is more clearer. Allen wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and leant back against the brick wall behind him. As his senses began to come back to him he was made aware of the low thumping in the distance. It sounded like music, and if he was lucky it would lead to a club where he could make earnings to buy him something to eat. If he was _really_ lucky, he would also have the money needed for his rent.

Allen followed the sound of the beat as if it were the pied piper calling for his soul. Joke on him, as Allen wasn’t sure he still owned one. The music led him to a hole in the wall, that upon closer inspection went down rather than straight in. An underground club. The music reaching his ears because, as he saw, a man stood holding it open as he spoke to someone nearby. He briefly wondered if they would require ID. The only person that seemed to be near the door was the man actually keeping it open. Everyone else who stood by seemed unconcerned with how or what went in or out as they smoked, drank, talked, and lingered. He kept his eyes on the man by the door as if he were prey, it would suck if he could not get in to do what he needed to. It was always weird to encounter sleaze clubs where they still had moral enough to bar those deemed underage. He was immediately thankful for the miraculous growth spurt he had when he was sixteen. Before that he always had people mistake him for something way younger than fifteen.

The boy pulled off his hood from his hair, whatever colour it may be for whoever chose to give him a passing glance. He shoved his hands into his pockets and made himself relax. He needed the money. That was the mantra that willed him forward into the den of the unknown. As he got to the door, the guy there turned away from his conversation and eyed him strangely. Allen’s fingers twitched to grab the hood to pull it back over his hair but he refrained. He schooled his featured into nonchalance.

“I hope the game’s good tonight.” He tilted his head leaning to his aloof appearance.

The man continued to look at him. Gaze scrutinizing as if Allen had just visited from another planet- and looked the part.

A moment more passed that way, before the person who had been speaking to the doorman called for him. Before he turned away he moved aside slightly and Allen took it as his cue to enter.

The club, because that was what it was, was dark with dim overheads lighting only enough that people could make out what was immediately around them...like their drinks in hand. The music had been low outside, but once Allen had made it down the stone steps to the main room, the beat had a pulse, and every thump sent vibrations through his body. The atmosphere was dizzying- or it would have been if he did not see such a scene from time to time. There were rough and tumble looking men scattered in every direction- at the bar drinking, huddled in corners- Allen quickly looked away from those. If deals were going down and things went awry, he wanted no part of being cast as witness.

There were men on the dancefloor, drinks in one hand, scantily clad women in the other. There was a pool table off to the side, a sliver of life shown to show the balls and the sticks they needed to hit them. Allen saw money on the side. Stakes were high. What he wanted was nearby. A group of five men sat at a table next to the pool table, their voices occasionally rising high above the din of the general amalgamation of the club goers and the music. But only a glance was needed to see that they were roarious even when they couldn’t be heard from where Allen stood. Spread before them were poker chips, club peanuts, beer, money, and cards. One man slapped down a hand, the others around looked pissed but didn’t say a word or react otherwise as the man pulled the money stash toward him- though he left it on the surface.

Allen began walking toward them. The man who just won, sharing cards as if he did it professionally. When Allen was in earshot he heard the man shout, “Double or nothing!” He slapped a wad of cash next to his previous earnings. The men around him fishing in their pockets for their own ante. A smile ghosted over the boy’s lips. These men were loose with their pockets and seemed to not know when to just give up and walk away. He observed them clearly, they were so into the game they had not seen him circling the table like a vulture. Oh. Wait, the man who’d gathered the earnings glanced up at him, eyes narrowed- lips pulled down. Allen threw him a disarming smile before he looked down at the hand of the person he was standing behind.

“ _Ah_!” Allen covered his mouth and smiled sheepishly when the men now all sent him a glance. It made some people hold their cards a little closer, some looked at the man that Allen stood behind. Allen instead looked up at the money man, and smiled. The one that Allen stood behind called, and placed his cards on the table. There was a bit of groans around and others threw their cards, disgruntled.

“C’mon Carl!” The man in front of Allen yelled, jovially. He was referring to the man who’d won previously- he was the only one who’d yet to show his hand. Carl- as he’d been called- had his face twisted in disbelief. He stared at his hand for a moment, and scanned the faces of those around him. His gaze landed on the man who’d called the round. Said man’s face smug, like he knew what was coming and that the earnings would soon be his. But a slow, torturous smirk spread on the previous winner’s lips. His eyes leering. His expression bemused.

With a slam, his cards laid out neatly on the table surface. There were a bit of gasps- sounds of either surprise or confusion, or both. A straight flush which trumped the other’s three of a kind.

“What?!” There was a cry of outrage from the man before Allen. He had been lead to believe that even for a second he had gained an upper hand over the previous- now once again winner- and that fact had possibly made things worse. He slammed his palms onto the table surface, the seat pushing back in his display. “I’m out!”

“Okay.” Carl. His voice as cool as his gaze. “Do whatever ya want. But-” he pulled the round’s winnings to his already impressive pile, “I’ll be keeping this.”

The man before Allen looked ready to argue, like he possibly wanted to take his ante back. But the looks from those around the table made him think better. They didn’t care that Carl had won the round, they wanted the money where it sat because any earnings there were earnings they could possibly win for themselves. So the man stomped off in a huff.

Allen took the seat. “Mind if I join?”

A few skeptical looks were given at his words, but he ignored them. Looking directly at Carl, who was sending a look of bemusement his way. “Sure thing, pal.”

Allen’s smile lingered. He offered to shuffle the cards- dropped a few on “accident” in the process, giving his best sheepish facade with an apology easy on his lips. The guys at the table seemed to ease up then. Varying degrees of cool, smug looks on their faces. Allen wasn’t a threat since he was so inexperienced. In fact it meant they would have easy money added to the ante pool. Okay.

When the cards were dealt, the first round began easily enough. A number of the participants looking at their cards then sending conspicuous glances at Allen as if he were the only person they needed to beat for the earnings piled on the table. Fine then.

Allen flipped the first three cards of the round. Eight of Hearts, King of Spades, and a Ten of Hearts. The boy picked up the two cards laid before him already knowing what they were before he did so. Jack of Hearts and Seven of Hearts.

“Alright boys.” Carl was certainly the leader of the pack of misfits. His words came out sounding like Aw’ight boars. “I’mma betting man, so whatcha gots to offer?” It was the first bluff of the game and already working better than the man himself could imagine. The man to Allen’s left folded, throwing his cards to the table. The other two men threw in some cash. Carl about to do the same, stopped short to eye Allen curiously. “How’s ‘bout it, kid.”

The boy grimaced on the inside. It made his teeth clench and jaw tighten before he was able to hide it well enough behind a smile. The detective from the day past had certainly bothered him a lot more than he was willing to admit. The term kid- or what he could only imagine as anything referring to his youth would become a trigger on his already delicate nerves. But this man was not the detective and he must act accordingly.

He did not have much money to his name- a few bent and tattered bills shoved into the folds of his pockets. Spend money to make money. Or in his case, pretend to gamble money in order to swindle a lot more money. The boy pulled half the bills from his pockets and placed them onto the table.

The man- Carl- glanced at the offer, and gave a small laugh. The sound was neither disapproving or condescending. Rather, it was a show of mirth for the youth’s participation and contribution. He himself threw in the watch on his wrist. There was probably not much more money to be given within the group either way.

Allen flipped over another card to reveal another Eight. This time the Eight of Clubs. The “turn” appropriately named as it seemed to shift the balance of the game. Turn the tides, one might say. Carl, Allen decided, was not as versed in a solid poker face as he had initially thought. On closer inspection, the man’s eyes showed his inner emotions as clearly as the sun on a cloudless summer’s day. His eyes currently shown in excitement signifying that he thought he was well off.

Allen looked to the man on his right seeing a twitch in his jaw. It was the subtleties such as those that gave people away. The tick could have also meant a restraint of smugness- trying to hide the smirk forming or the thought of having a winning hand. Allen knew better.

When the cards had spilt over the table’s surface, the boy had been privy to several cards that would end up at the top of the stack. The first few were in no way remarkable. The hardness in the man's eyes were also telling. He was trying too hard at schooling his features as blank- unreadable.

The man bluffed regardless, a seemingly impenetrable wall, completely hollow with weathered sticks as its foundation. A twenty note joined the ever growing pile. Allen put half of his current half of bills on the table. The last man at the table seemed to waver momentarily but added a fiver announcing his continual stay in the coming round.

Allen wasted no time in flipping the last card. Truly a change of tide with the “river”. Nine of Hearts. Which bend it would take to flow the glorious bounty of victory was only minutes away from reveal.

Allen was admittingly surprised that no one seemed to groan in disappointment or shout in elation over there hands. It certainly seemed as if the crowd of men were used to their game of poker and took it seriously enough. Maybe….if he had not been so keen on scrutinising the features of a person to stay grounded into reality, perhaps he would have missed the little twitch or the extra sheen in the eyes or something else seemingly insignificant.

Wordlessly, Allen placed his remaining change on the table. The man on his right rose a skeptical eyebrow. He figured they still didn't take him seriously. His meager wager gave a new meaning to the term ‘chump change.’

All other bets were placed at the centre and the moment of truth arrived. A tense moment passed where everyone seemed to eye each other- calculating the probability of someone having a higher hand.

The fifth man at the table- the one that wasn't to Allen’s left or right- decided he had as good a chance as any. In a game of poker, it was less strategic of what cards you drew. And instead more strategic in how you bluffed. Those initial two cards decide your reach in the game with each flip of the initial ‘flop.’ Having cards that made winning hands were a gift of the God of luck, and the man decided that he was blessed.

He placed his hand on the table revealing two heart cards- a King and Two. With the Eight, Nine and Ten of Hearts on the table, he called Flush and looked at the others expectantly. The man to Allen’s right threw his cards with an irritated shake of his head. His Straight with a hand of Jack of Club and Queen of Diamonds already beat.

A glint of challenge blossomed in the man's eyes as he waited for Allen and Carl to do their reveal. Allen's head turnt down to eye his cards once more- coy. Carl took pity on him- as if he somehow spared him from the loss the man thought the look surely indicated- and placed his cards as well.

A pair of Eights in his hand matched the pair already on the table making his hand Four of a Kind. There was a twitch in his fingers as he itches to pull the pile toward his initial one. Allen had made them wait long enough.

There were several ways Allen could reveal his cards. Pretend that he was an absolute newbie when it came to the game and just put his cards down without calling as if he was unsure of where his hand stood in the grand scheme of things, but he had been the one to share the cards and didn't feel the need to act so clueless. His accidental shuffle spill coupled with the amateur air might actually tip them toward a ruse than anything else. He could also confidently place his hand which much like the first would signal a ruse. One that, in his cockiness would make it hard for him to leave the underground unscathed.

A sudden thought of how he was supposed to leave after winning in general flickered through his mind. He placed his hand upon the table, unsure. “Straight Flush.” The Heart suit of Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten and Jack fanned on the table signalling overall victory.

A moment of silence caressed the men at the table as the dull edge of a serrated knife. All eyes trained on him like a marksman waiting to pull the trigger of his rifle. One beat. Two beat. Three beats of silence before a whistle escaped Carl's lips.

“That's some luck ya got there, boy.”

Allen's smile was spread thin.

“Up for another round?” It didn't sound like a question.

“Maybe one other round. I've got places to be.”

The tense pressure in the air blew out with in the form of Carl's laughter. Allen felt as if he had picked the correct option in a list of game choices that allowed him to continue to the end of his mission.

When the same question was propositioned to the other men at the table they had all agreed. The last match, despite Allen's win, had been close enough that the players felt they could somehow come out on top the next time around.

That began another eventful round. Allen decided to up the ante as he bet winnings from his pool. It spurred Carl to do the same and the other men at the table seemed to put fire under their bluffs- faces unreadable. Money and loose jewellery trickling in.

When the last card was turnt and cards revealed, it was no surprise- to Allen at least- that he had again won. He wasted no time gathering up the crumpled bills, straightening some out as he hoped they could do the same for his life.

“Sure ya can't stay for another?” Round, is what Carl meant. Allen shook his head. He'd only come to earn the money for his rent. He enjoyed a good game of poker, it was just about the most secure thing he still had in his life. He could see the outcome of a poker match more clearly than he could envision where he would wake any given morning. But the unease of the afternoon never left him. He wanted only what he came for and to be done.

“Perhaps another time.” He placated handing the watch back over to the man. The brightest of the yellow gold signaled anywhere from completely fake, or ridiculously expensive. He caught an engravement in the plating under the watch face and knew guilt would consume him to keep it. The man had clearly thought he would be victorious and as such offering a precious watch he knew he would get back was nothing. How was he to know that he would meet Allen.

“Come back yah ‘ear. Let's-”

But the man's words were cut short as his eyes darted to some distinct point behind Allen's standing body.

Quiet. Calm before a storm. Order surrounding chaos.

The boy didn't know how he had missed it. The silence of an underground bar. The only noise a small scrummage with breathless curses. His body tensed and his pulse sped along as if he were next to give a presentation in front of hundreds when he had not written the report or done the research. He looked into the Carl’s eyes focused on the scene and saw it as clearly as if he had been watching it through his own.

Ignore it.

His mind screamed at him to listen.

_Leave._

“You okay there, kid?” Carl's eyes were now on him again. Wide grey eyes, bleeding crimson scars beneath his left eye. Pale as some spectral entity that would disappear in a moments notice.

_Don't look._

 

How could he? When the faces were always there?

**HELP ME!**

As his eyes turned he was assaulted by the phantom scream of words he truly could not hear, but simply knew they were. His gaze quickly trailed to something solid. The visual making him recoil as if he had never stopped staring at the ghastly apparition above the physical woman they could all see. Her eyes were soulless and cried out for help that she knew she would not get behind dull blue irises .

There was a lump in Allen's throat. He couldn't swallow past it. He could no longer look at those eyes that would not stop looking at him. He saw her body, scantily clad in black leather, saw her pale arms hanging useless beside her. The joints at the inside of her elbow covered in drug induced bug bites dotting them red. She was allergic to this lifestyle. Allen's stomach constricted and shot a dose of adrenaline to his throat. He kept it down before it could escape him. He'd need it soon.

His eyes, no longer able to take in the pitiful being before him darted to the one beside her, and his knees buckled. The angry grimace of the man he had bumped into earlier now once more in his sights. Sandy brown hair gelled up in unruly spikes. It was hard to describe. Dark eyes, bared teeth- the man's very being was synonymous with anger.

One giant bulging arm held another man, the man who's place Allen had taken at the poker table, by the throat. The boy’s mind barely registered the shattered glass and the wet stain on the upset man’s shirt. The man's fist tightened mercilessly and the ex-poker player gagged as his face went through an alarming variety of colours- pinks, reds, blues. Allen imagined his own face going green.

He imagined that the strangled man's throat would soon be reminiscent of the glass shards at his feet.

“Hey, kid.”

The hand to Allen’s shoulder was a jolt of electricity kicking him into gear. His body shuddered as another stomach constriction made acid shoot to his throat. He was high on adrenaline and his legs worked without any other part of him needing to. He bumped into a table in a fog of retreat. He felt eyes on him- trail after him. He didn't look back, even as the thump of what could only have been a body hit the floor. He didn't look to see if it moved, he couldn't hear if it did.

Allen kept running. The only destination was ‘away.’ The sick in his stomach propelled him faster and faster. He no longer knew if the vile creeping up his throat was from what he had seen or from the stress of running too fast. Or both. His stomach lurched him forward, and he stumbled into a wall. His lips parted and acrid, brown liquid poured out like a faucet without a stopper. Bitter tears stung and clung to the corners of his eyes.

His body emptied and took his energy with it as he slid to the dirty, stained pavement. His recent sick finding company beside another stain already dried over time. He stared at it with morbid fascination before a self-deprecating laugh tumbled from between sour lips. One glance around showed that he had ended up in the same location he had run to earlier. Run from the same wrathful man.

As the laughter continued, so did the tears. He felt sick. _Was_ sick. He lurched forward as another retch and gag seized him but nothing else came out. The inside of his skull wanted to leak out as much as the fluids from his mouth and eyes did. Blood rushed to his head and every pound that reverberated in his ears made him wish he could close his eyes and it all be over.

He stood on legs made of jello. The wall a crutch until he could support his weight. And he trudged on. Away from the call of the pied piper urging him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this took a while, but I had a bit of a writer's block. I had to learn to play poker before I could continue with the last scene. haha. The game in real life was all fun and games but Allen unfortunately doesn't have that luck.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter~ :)


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